We are at the kitchen table eating dinner. As children do, Lisa has dropped some small bit of food onto the table by her plate. As parents do, I absent mindedly pick it up, and to deal with expediently, pop it in my mouth.

A tasty little bit of meat for me.

But then I realise that there is not meat in our meal. It's just rice and bean paste soup. No meat at all.

I guess it could have been a bean from the bean paste. But no. It was too chewy!

There is nothing chewy in our soup. It was not dropped from the plate. It was already there.

I start to feel sick.

Should I mention it? Should I ask Lisa what she was keeping to the side of her plate? Should I ask my family what chewy little morsel might have been dropped on the table earlier in the day?

It would likely delight my wife no end that I've gone a popped an unidentified "bit 'o 'sumpin' " into my mouth.

But now, I really don't want to know what is was. I start to think about all the awful things that could have been on the table. Things picked out of noses, things prepared for the cat, things off of a shoe. I just don't want to know.

And so I don't mention it.

Do I feel my stomach turning. Something is moving deep down. What could it be?

But as long as it doesn't kill me, it's best not to know.